


12/98

by sweptawaybayou



Category: Angel: the Series, Real Person Fiction
Genre: First Times, M/M, first failed marriage, sexass boys, the usual angst, way back in the day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13366761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweptawaybayou/pseuds/sweptawaybayou
Summary: for the Slash the Drabble challenge - WhispersOriginally published 5/15/2007





	12/98

He remembered the feel of that low voice, soft lips brushing his ear. The smell of whiskey and smoke and more often than not, the scent of his own body on Chris' breath. Shared jokes and dirty secrets.

He remembered that first time, both of them drunk off their asses and sober enough to pretend that they didn't know what they were doing.

_"How do you like it?"_ A question steeped in an accent that got thicker the more Chris drank. Or the more turned on he was.

_"Like this..."_ David answered.

Not _"Why do you want to know?"_

Not _"None of your business, Cowboy."_

David answered the question with a turn of his lips, fingers sliding down his own chest. Touch soft on the cotton of his T-shirt to the buttons of his 501's. Pop and twist and his hand was on his cock, thumb pressed over the head. He kept looking at Chris. Watching Chris watch him.

They weren't alone. There were a couple party guests still drinking. They'd moved outside to smoke a joint and sit under washed-out starlight, in lounge chairs that were barely held together after being tossed around, stood on, pulled out of the pool on other evenings. Furnishings that came with the rental and somewhere in back of David's mind he knew that he'd be paying for the fighting, drinking, ruined drywall and broken antiques. He just couldn't bring himself to care. The tiny electric shocks of possibly of being seen made David harder, made his breath come faster.

He didn't remember the last time Ingrid had been home. He'd taken off the ring months ago.

Christmas lights hung from drunkenly punched-in staples around the trim of the house. David was still somewhat amazed that they were alive and unbroken after that stunt.

They moved from watching to touching in record time. Both of them starved for something they couldn't name, something they wouldn't talk about and when David first heard the whispers, when he first saw the looks, he ignored them. Blissfully happy, scarily content.

When his agent asked, David laughed out loud. And immediately started dating a blonde Bunny. Proved his heterosexuality by knocking her up before the wedding. The gossip subsided and if it weren't for the unspoken hurt he could see under layers of intoxication in Chris' eyes when he held his head steady and fucked his mouth, if it weren't for the desperation he could taste on Chris' tongue, the bites on his shoulders and the hand prints that became bruises on David's hips when Chris spread his legs, pushed in, David's mouth open over pillow and mattress ... he thought that Chris understood.

_"How do you like it?"_

Six years. Time hadn't changed anything.

_"I like it ... like this ..."_

Chris' hair was still as soft in his fingers. His tongue as wicked. His kisses as sweet. The whispers simply became background noise.


End file.
